Page 115 of Savage Lover

“Where are they going?”

“To burn the van,” Nero says.

“How are we getting home?”

“I dunno,” he grins. “I was hoping you’d drive me.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. All I know is he’s definitely excited about something. Not just the insane amount of money we just stole—this is something else.

“What are you up to?” I say, suspiciously.

“I’m talking about your new car,” Nero says.

He pulls the dust cover off the car parked in the nearest stall.

I gasp, hands over my mouth.

I see a long, sleek body with outrageous curves, painted a deep oxblood red. The chrome grille and round headlights gleam in the dim parkade. The wheels are pristine. I can smell the fresh leather even from here.

“You’re joking,” I say.

“I would never joke about a car,” Nero says. “Especially not this one.”

I turn to look at him. His eyes look darker than usual, intently focused on me. His expression is serious.

“Nero, I can’t take this . . .” I say. “You may never find another one.”

“Camille,” he says, touching my cheek with his hand. “I’ve always felt things . . . intensely. Or I thought I did. But every emotion I ever had, my whole life through, is nothing compared to what I feel when I look at you. I don’t care about the car, or the money we just took, or anything else in this world. Next to you, all those other things just fade away.”

“This is crazy,” I whisper.

The Grand Sport is beautiful, utterly beautiful. Priceless, in that there’s not another one like it in the world, and you could never buy the countless hours of time that Nero put into it, when he thought it would be his.

But it’s not the car itself that’s making my heart race like mad, and hot tears spring up into my eyes.

It’s what it means, for Nero to give it to me.

Nero is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He has a fire inside of him that burns hotter than the surface of the sun. I know how strongly he hates—I can only imagine the kind of love he feels. It terrifies me.

I don’t know how or why he’s given it to me.

I feel like a mortal, chosen by a god.

And yet . . .

It feels right.

The way our hands fit together. The way our bodies fit together, too. The way I understand him, when no one else seems to. And the way he sees me, when no one bothered to before.

The way we find peace in each other, when we’re two restless souls.

I’ve known he was the one for me for a long time now.

I just never thought I could be the one for him.

Then Nero says something even more insane.

“Do you think you could ever love me, Camille?”

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